


Dorks & Disaster

by maxride003



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: But not Heroes & Halfwits cast, D&D AU, Fantasy, Gen, My own D&D AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-20 15:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxride003/pseuds/maxride003
Summary: When odd forms of necromancy start appearing around Jack, he sets out to learn what it is and what could be causing it. As he travels, he gains the help of new friends, while the world around them struggles to handle the violent surges of magical power that are quickly arising.





	1. The Cleric

**Author's Note:**

> Look, another fic started. I'll get to my others soon, I just got inspired to do this one, and can't really change where my motivation lies. I started this AU a couple years back, but I wasn't happy with it then, and it's gone through some big changes to get where it is now. Just know it's not at all based on Heroes & Halfwits, that show is actually a lot of the reason why I've put this story off for so long, but I hope that you all like it!

It was growing late, and Jack was finally able to settle down in his small, borrowed room and relax for the evening. The town he’d stopped in was small, almost enough so to be considered a village, and yet he’d done more work there with them than he’d done in the last three towns combined. He wasn’t sure what it was but there seemed to be an illness of some kind spreading around, something that darkened patches of skin and quickly made people gaunt and sickly, something he’d never encountered before. Many of the townsfolk had complained of being violently ill, of suffering from acute light sensitivity, stiffness and pain in joints that hadn’t hurt before, and it was all strange to Jack, but he had put all his energy into helping them since he’d arrived.

Jack climbed up on the bed, his muscles protesting even that action after being up and running around all day, but the bed wasn’t built for a dwarf. Many weren’t, not outside of the dwarf cities, so Jack was used to it. But that didn’t make his aching joints feel any better as he hauled himself up and flopped onto the sheets.

Laying down felt amazing after the long day. The constant movement had worn on Jack, and there was a sharp headache that had settled behind his eyes, lingering for the last few hours. He’d tried to hold onto as much of his magical energy as he could throughout the day, but eventually he’d wiped himself out, reaching into the very bottom of his magical reserves to cast that last cure wounds spell. His body begged him for sleep, and he was more than happy to oblige, closing his eyes and settling in.

He wasn’t asleep long before there was a shout and a crash from outside the room, and Jack started awake, staring at the door blearily. The room he’d been given was just in the back of the clinic, there were bound to be noises, but that had been very loud. It should’ve just been him, one of the doctors, and a patient they had kept overnight until Jack was rested enough to replenish his magic.

“ _ Jack! _ ” The shout was tight and scared, and Jack sat up quickly as another loud bang sounded from the clinic itself. He jumped out of bed, his muscles protesting the movement as he snatched up his robes and pulled them on, the hammer of Moradin emblazoned clearly on the back. His holy symbol was thrown over his head, the golden amulet resting on top of his thick, bushy beard.

Jack threw open the door as a horrible, inhuman shriek came from the clinic, and he paused. With only a second’s hesitation, he turned and grabbed up the warhammer he’d propped up against the end of the bed, throwing his shield onto his arm. His armor lay neatly on the floor still but he didn’t have time to put it on, he hadn’t actually expected to need any of this in town, but he didn’t know what he would be walking into. It was better to be safe than sorry.

He rushed out of the room, down the short hall, and slammed open the door in front of him. The main room of the clinic was small, proportional to the size of the town. It had a total of four beds for patients, behind a thin, rolling partition that separated the beds from the seats at the front by the desk. Cabinets and shelves held the medical equipment, and even through the busy hours Jack had worked earlier, it was carefully kept and maintained.

Now, however, the clinic had been torn apart.

Objects had been knocked off of shelves, bottles and needles and bandages littering the floor. Some of the bottles and vials had broken, different colored liquids, fine powders, and small leaves spread across the floorboards. One of the beds was shoved out of its spot, the nightstand beside it overturned, and the young woman who had been sleeping there was up and across the room, but she looked nothing like the girl Jack had seen before going to bed.

When she’d arrived only a few hours before, she’d had darkened patches of skin, joint pain, light sensitivity, nausea, all of the symptoms that everyone else in town had been complaining of during the day. Now, the black spots on her arms and torso had spread, until most of her skin was either black or a dark, sickly green, and her veins stood out a stark white. Her joints seemed to bend in ways they shouldn’t have been able to, her fingers curled like gnarled claws, and the long, blond hair Jack had noticed before had become coarse and lost most of its color. Jack couldn’t see her face, but there was another strange shriek that came from her, high-pitched and ringing and unlike anything he’d ever heard.

She had the clinic’s doctor pinned, his back pressed against the wall, and he kept only one of the beds between himself and her reaching hands. He was a middle-aged man with greying hair and a pair of glasses sat crookedly on his face. His own white robes were disheveled, nearly falling off one shoulder, and he gripped a large medpack in his hands tightly. With it, he batted away the young woman’s hands, each impact a small crack that seemed to do little to deter her. Scratches cut through the sleeves of his robes and the skin beneath, staining the white fabric red with his blood, and droplets spattered his face and his front.

The man met Jack’s eyes, his own wide and wild. “Help!” he cried, and he was echoed by the woman’s screech. Holding his warhammer tightly with one hand, Jack fumbled with his holy symbol with the other, gripping the entirety of the amulet in his fist. He focused on it, on the hammer symbol inscribed on the metal, on the same insignia on his robes, and sent silent prayers out to Moradin. It took a second, and Jack’s head swam with the rush of energy that came through his weakened body, but the symbol warmed in his grasp.

“Leave him be!” Jack cried, his voice ringing with authority, and the woman looked around. Her eyes were milky white and sunken into her head, her skin was tight over her bones, and her teeth had also darkened and looked misshapen, sharp. She shrieked at Jack, spit flying from her lips, and he raised his holy symbol toward her, slowly advancing.

When her eyes fell on the symbol, they widened and she turned and fled, away from Jack. Within the small room, there was nowhere to go except the back wall, and she stopped there, twisted hands pressed against the stone. She looked back toward Jack, hissing, and crouched down with her back against the wall and fingers splayed on the stones. Jack let go of his amulet, and he could feel the warmth radiating from it even through his beard as he slowly adjusted his grip on the warhammer.

For a moment, he stood there, staring at this creature that the woman had become. Guilt and empathy twisted his gut. He hadn’t been able to help her. He was so sure that he could take just a couple hours to rest, if he just got back a little bit of magic, he could help like he’d helped everyone else. But he was too late, and they couldn’t keep her here while Jack rested in the hopes that he could do something come morning. It was dangerous, and he didn’t even know what he was facing. It was probably undead, but that was all he knew, all he could figure out. There wasn’t anything else he could do.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said quietly, setting his shield aside so that he could better grip the hammer with two hands. He stepped forward, pulling the hammer back, and swung it forward as hard as he could. It connected with the woman’s torso, and bones snapped and popped in a horrible wave of crackling sound, while thick, light grey liquid started oozing from places where the bones had broken through fragile skin. She let out a screech that was little more than a high-pitched breath, falling to the ground and reaching out toward Jack.

Her long, sharp fingers grabbed onto Jack’s unprotected ankle, the boots that would’ve been there still in the room, and sank into the skin. Blood welled from the puncture wounds and Jack shouted, yanking his leg away and bringing his warhammer up. With another solid swing downward, the hammer smashed into her shoulder and head, crumpling her form, and she fell limp without another sound.

Jack grimaced, falling down to one knee before her as the warmth of his amulet started to fade, and a quiet buzzing started in his ears. He was tired, pushing himself to his limits, but he didn’t care at the moment. Instead he looked down at the form of the woman, trying to find a reason for what happened and wracking his brain for any knowledge that could help tell him what he had just witnessed. Nothing came to mind and he sighed, pushing himself upright with the help of his warhammer, and looking toward the doctor.

The man stood behind the bed still, staring at Jack with wide eyes, and he slowly reached up to pull his glasses off his face and clean them on the hem of his robes. Jack felt bad for him, the poor guy had been dealing with a lot during the day himself, and getting attacked probably hadn’t helped his nerves.

“Are you okay, Desmond?” Jack asked, grabbing his shield and making his way over to the doctor. The puncture wounds in his ankle burned, and Jack could feel blood running down and likely dripping on the floor, but he ignored it as best he could. It wasn’t a serious injury, it could wait.

Desmond looked down at Jack and then his eyes slid to the unmoving form against the back wall. He nodded shakily and took a slow, deep breath. “I-I’m fine,” he said. He cleared his throat and shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the creature and down at Jack instead. “Just a few scratches. Startled more than anything else.”

“May I?” Jack asked, gesturing to the cuts on Desmond’s arm. Desmond looked at him blankly for a moment before his eyes lit up in understanding and he nodded. Jack gently took the medkit that Desmond had been using as a weapon, set it on the bed, opened it, and started looking at the scratches and tending to them with the basic medical supplies. “What happened here?”

“I don’t know,” Desmond admitted, watching as Jack poured a light colored disinfectant on a clean rag and pressed it to the injuries. “I was just making sure everything was closed up and set for the night, I was about to go to sleep myself. And then she started moaning and thrashing, and then she just turned into...that. It just happened in an instant. She crawled out of bed and got me before I could figure out what was happening or get away, which is when I tried to get some distance and called for you.”

Jack frowned to himself, looking the injuries over and determining that they would be fine with only bandages, they weren’t deep enough for stitches. He grabbed a roll with one hand, the other holding the rag to the cuts. His warhammer and shield had been discarded, leaning up against the bed.

He had minimal experience with undead - as that had to be, only undead reacted that way to his holy symbol, that was the point - and it was mostly through books and research. Jack had read about animated skeletons and zombies, thralls to a necromancer that raised them. He had a little bit of knowledge about liches and their phylacteries, about ghouls and spirits, and vampires that stalked the night. A lot of it was theoretical, but even that didn’t cover a sudden transmutation that turned otherwise normal people into something undead.

Lost in thought, he went quickly through the routine motions of cleaning and bandaging an injury, and then putting everything away and setting aside anything that had touched blood and needed to be disinfected or discarded. The medkit snapped closed and Jack looked up at the much taller man. “I don’t know what that would be. Do you think there’s anyone else in town we should be worried about?”

Desmond shook his head, gently touching the bandages around his arm. “Not that I know of. Once people started having problems, word spread of a disease and to come here for help. If anyone else is showing symptoms, it’s either new or they live on one of the outskirt farms and news hasn’t reached them. I think everyone else should be fine.”

Jack nodded, adjusting his robe and running his fingers through his beard. “Okay. You should get some sleep. If there is anyone else, we need to treat them as soon as possible, but we need to be well rested for it.” Once again, Jack grabbed his shield and hammer, dipping his head to Desmond, before turning and starting back to his borrowed room.

“Jack, wait,” Desmond said, and Jack paused, turning to look at him over his shoulder. “Your foot, it’s bleeding. Would you like some help with that?” Jack glanced down at the bloody puncture wounds and the marks he’d left on the floor, a little surprised it had slipped his mind, and then smiled at Desmond.

“That’s okay,” he said, moving back to the bed and grabbing the medkit. “I’ll get it myself. Go sleep. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.” He glanced over at the creature, it would have to be moved before the clinic opened, the blood and various spills would need to be cleaned, furniture rearranged. And then they’d have to make sure no one else was at risk of this kind of transformation.

Jack returned to his room, put away his weapons, and climbed up on the bed again, setting the medkit beside him. He quickly fixed up his ankle, cleaning and wrapping it, and then set his robes and holy symbol aside. Despite the chaos and adrenaline of the last few minutes, and his whirling thoughts, Jack was asleep almost as soon as he laid down, the exhaustion of constant spellcasting dragging him down to unconsciousness.

It was dark, quiet, save for a low rumbling that was just on the peripheries of Jack’s perception. With it came a gentle vibration, the sound shaking Jack’s bones and setting his teeth buzzing against each other. Slowly, the rumbling grew, louder and louder until it was a deafening roar and Jack felt like he was being violently bounced around in the black nothingness around him. Next came the light, a small pinprick of red that expanded rapidly and filled his vision, filled the world, enveloped him in a bright wash of color that was hot as fire.

A scream joined the rumbling, one, two, five, a cacophony of agony all around Jack and he covered his ears, but it only got louder. Screwed his eyes shut, but the fiery light still burned through his eyelids. Cracking his eyes open again, Jack saw black tendrils, solid forms made of smoke and ash, that rose up all around him, reaching for him, and one touched his bare arm. Pain exploded from the contact, racing through his body, touching each muscle, each cell, and Jack screamed.

And then everything stopped and it became dark and quiet once more.

 

\---------

 

The next day came far too soon for Jack, but it at least went by quickly. He rose early to help Desmond and the other doctor, a halfling woman named Tera, to clean up the clinic. The corpse of the creature he’d slain had practically caved in on itself overnight. The blackened skin had withered and fallen away, leaving pockmarked and cracked bones with strips of flesh hanging off of them beneath the clothing. The nature of the creature only confused Jack more as they set about moving the body to one of the back rooms and covering it up, until a proper burial could be arranged.

All of the spills were taken care of, inventory was counted to determine what had been lost and what more was needed, and then the clinic was opened once more. There were a couple people who arrived early with complaints of the same symptoms, and Jack handled them as quickly as possible, repairing their aches and the dying skin and sending them on their way. Compared to the day before, however, the amount of patients like that were few, and the later day had them seeing more common ailments.

In the afternoon, Jack and Tera left Desmond to care for the clinic and they went around the town, making sure they hadn’t missed anyone who’d chosen not to come in to get checked. They went as far as the outlying farms to ensure that whatever had spread was no longer a threat, only finding one elderly gentleman who insisted it was fine and signs of old age. It took some convincing for him to let Jack help, but he did eventually, and the dark spots spreading along his arms vanished at the healing light of Jack’s magic.

Jack intended to only stay one more night in the town before moving on to the next. He wanted to spend more time there and help how he could; the other towns he’d stopped in, he’d been there for nearly a week each, whereas it had just been a couple of days here. But whatever had happened to this town, Jack didn’t want to leave them scared and wondering. No one knew if it would come up again, Desmond especially was terrified of facing something like that once more, and Jack couldn’t leave them without answers.

Unfortunately, at the moment, he had none to give. Prayers to Moradin that night revealed nothing, his god remained as silent as he usually did. The town wasn’t large enough to house a library, and Jack had few enough resources available to him while on the move. He needed somewhere bigger, somewhere with more knowledge, people he could ask. And to do that, he had to get moving.

For one last night, Jack settled in to the small room at the back of the clinic. Tomorrow, he would set out to begin his search to find out what had happened.


	2. The Fighter

Geoff was getting very tired of fighting goblins and kobolds, but the little nuisances just had to be everywhere.

His sword came down on one of the last small ambushers, the blade catching the goblin’s shoulder and sinking down through the flesh until it caught on the bone. The goblin shrieked, swiping with a battered shortsword as Geoff removed his own blade with a sharp tug. The goblin’s swing was sloppy and Geoff easily caught it on his shield. The impact barely shook his arm, a faint vibration ringing through the metal.

There was the faint  _ twang _ of a bow string and an arrow sank into Geoff’s arm, beneath the sleeve of his chainmail. Pain flared through his sword arm and Geoff grimaced, glancing behind him. A goblin he hadn’t noticed before stood among the bushes with a bow and Geoff cursed. Damn creatures were sneaky as dicks.

Injured and wavering, the goblin in front of Geoff refused to fall, even as blood flowed freely from its shoulder and stained its borrowed leather armor. Instead it barred its sharp teeth, golden eyes glowing with a feral hatred, and it swung its sword as hard as it could. Geoff’s sword flashed down to intercept the smaller blade, catching and deflecting it with a burst of sparks. The force of the impact rocketed up Geoff’s arm, sharp pain exploding from the arrow lodged in his muscles. His sword dropped from its position too soon, guiding the goblin’s sword down to cut across Geoff’s leg. A thin line of fire across unarmored skin and Geoff swore again, louder, and hopped backwards.

Just as an arrow aimed at his back shot past and caught the goblin in the eye.

It didn’t even make a sound as it fell to the ground, blood quickly pooling beneath it. Behind Geoff came a small, startled squeak and Geoff turned back to the goblin with the bow. “Hey, thanks,” Geoff said casually. It stared at him and then reached for another arrow, but Geoff was already moving. He charged forward, ignoring his injuries and bringing his sword around in a small, circular motion. The now blood red weapon came down and around on the goblin’s wrist, cutting across skin and catching on the wood of the bow. Geoff yanked the weapon from the goblin’s hands, nearly cutting the cheap wood clean in half.

The goblin scrambled for the sword that hung at its belt, pulling it free and swinging it at Geoff. The motion was hurried and sloppy, a poor swing made worse by the weapon snagging on the belt before being drawn, and Geoff batted it away with his shield. It didn’t have a chance to try again as Geoff brought his own sword around, cleaving through the goblin’s neck. It dropped with a brief, breathy shout and Geoff looked around warily in the following moment of silence, keeping an eye out for additional threats.

Silence persisted within the thin forest, heavy and unnatural after the skirmish. Nearby animals had been driven away by the ambush, their usual sounds gone, though crows would likely be around before too long. When nothing else made itself known, Geoff relaxed, letting the tip of his sword hit the ground and shield drop from its ready position. The fight hadn’t been long or particularly difficult, but he hadn’t escaped injury and even a quick battle was tiring. Armor and shield were heavy, and keeping his sword aloft and precise strained muscles. The four on one hadn’t helped matters, though Geoff was pleased with himself for winning with those odds.

Even if he had only defeated a few goblins.

His injuries began making themselves known as his intense focus faded and Geoff winced, looking himself over. The arrow in his arm sent pain radiating outward, his leg burned, and Geoff only just realized there was warm blood trickling down the side of his face. A lucky slingshot pellet had caught the side of his head earlier, and he’d expected a welt, but not for it to cut through skin. Then there were the general aches and pains of battle that would likely accumulate into bruises, or minor cuts and scrapes that Geoff just hadn’t noticed yet.

Geoff let out a breath and sheathed his sword and then set his shield aside, checking the arrow. It had gone through his arm just far enough for the head of it to be sticking out and Geoff looked at it, considering. For a moment, his hand lingered near a dagger he kept at his belt and he thought about cutting the arrowhead free of the shaft so removing it later would be easier. But the thought of messing it up made him pause and then decide not to. His right hand wasn’t nearly steady enough to do that without tugging at the arrow, and he didn’t need to render his arm useless.

The corpses of the goblins lay across the path and Geoff stared at them as he gently maneuvered his shield to sit on his back. Moving them sounded like a lot of work, but he couldn’t just leave dead bodies on a traveled path.

It took a bit of time, especially when Geoff had to pause occasionally when his injuries protested the movement, but he eventually ended up with a road that was clear of bodies. There were still smears of blood, a couple discarded arrows, a few smaller bits and pieces of dismembered goblins, but the actual bodies themselves were out of the way of travelers. It was good enough.

With any luck, this road would be safer to travel now. People had been actively avoiding it, a new off-road trail had started to form as enough people detoured the area, just because of the goblins and kobolds and other little annoying creatures that had set up their camps in this wood. Geoff had intended to pass right through this area and continue on to the city a few days away, but when he’d heard about their troubles, he couldn’t just leave the nearby village to handle it on their own.

Though if he had, he’d at least still be able to move his arm freely.

By the time Geoff started back toward the town, the various pains had dulled to a background numbness he could practically ignore, and blood was no longer flowing. Though really, as annoying as an arrow lodged in his arm was or as much he didn’t like the stinging discomfort of an open cut, he’d had far worse in the past. This wasn’t fun, but it was manageable.

The village was only a fifteen minute walk away, and Geoff could see it through the widely spaced trees long before reaching it. It was a small settlement, a little grouping of lumberjacks and carpenters who spent their lives in the thin woods. Nearer the village, the tall trees gave way to smaller and smaller saplings, some of which grew right up alongside old and rotten stumps from their ancestors. A low, wooden wall surrounded the village, designed more as a way of imposing a border from the growing forest as opposed to a means of protection.

It was early evening when Geoff stepped back through the large, open space in the wall that served as the entryway to the village, and people milled about freely. The work of the day was coming to an end, and it was more common to see people moving about now as they got situated after a long day.

Lumberjacks with axes close at hand and thick gloves hanging from their belts grouped up and talked or made their way back home, past the gardeners and nursery workers who tended the trees and seemed constantly smudged with streaks of dirt. Carpenters used the remaining daylight to add onto current projects, and Geoff passed two who sat out on their home porches working on their builds. Children laughed and played in the streets, dogs close at their heels, and smoke was starting to curl up from nearby chimneys, carrying the smell of cooking meat and vegetables with it as families started to prepare dinner.

Geoff made his way to one of the small buildings at the center of the village, where the doctor resided, and let himself inside. The room he stepped into glowed warmly with the light of a crackling fire and was very well cleaned and maintained. A cot was set up, the blankets laid out perfectly, up against one wall for any who needed to stay. A table sat against another wall, small bottles and vials stacked nicely away in small storage crates, alongside basic med kits and various tools. Dried herbs hung from hooks on the ceiling, a couple of chairs sat ready, and a cabinet sat open with food and drinks while additional blankets and towels sat underneath.

There were two people inside already. One was a young man, human like Geoff, no more than twenty years old and dressed in light, comforting colors. He was clean-shaven, though his short black hair was a mess, and he wore glasses on a nose that looked like it had been broken a time or two. The young doctor was someone Geoff had only met once the day before, but he seemed like a good kid. Geoff was fairly sure his name was Conner.

The other person, Geoff didn’t recognize. He was a dwarf, with a bushy red beard sporting a couple of short and decorative braids, and glasses of his own. He was dressed more similarly to Geoff, as many adventurers were. Armor, shield, a weapon close at hand, standing beside a traveling pack that had been set on the ground. He and Conner stood near the table, talking over an open notebook when Geoff entered, but the conversation cut off suddenly as they both turned to look at him.

Geoff closed the door behind him, lifting his hand in greeting. “Hi. I, uh, took care of the whole goblin mess out there.”

“I think they might’ve taken care of you,” Conner said, looking at the arrow in Geoff’s arm and moving over to him quickly. “Are you alright?”

“Except for being hurt, yeah, I think so,” Geoff said, letting Conner lead him to one of the chairs. He sat down and immediately felt tired and drained. He may have been pushing himself more than he should have been in order to help the village, as exhaustion and numbness crept over him, and Geoff wondered how well standing would work again.

Conner knelt down beside him, looking over his injuries and shaking his head. “You should get your armor off so I can see what’s going on better. Hey, Jack.” He looked over his shoulder to the dwarf, who watched the two of them quietly. “Would you mind grabbing me one of those med kits? There should also be a large bowl in with the towels, I need some water.”

“Sure,” Jack said, setting about the small room with purpose. “I can help too, if you need me.”

“Thanks.” Conner sounded a little relieved as he helped Geoff remove his shield from his back, setting it aside. He helped Geoff with his bracers and the straps of his pauldrons, letting Geoff keep his arm still as much as possible. The chainmail gave Conner pause, since Geoff couldn’t just take it off with the arrow in the way, but Conner settled for rolling it up to get most of it out of the way.

Jack filled a bowl with water from a barrel beside the fireplace, setting it, a towel, and a med kit at Conner’s side. The doctor nodded his thanks as he gently moved Geoff’s pant leg out of the way of the cut on his leg. The cuts were cleaned, dried blood wiped away from Geoff’s leg and face, with bandages applied over each injury. Those were the easy ones - the arrow was the difficult one to deal with.

Conner took a moment to look it over before he got up and grabbed a serrated blade from a drawer. He knelt back down and said, “It went straight through, so it should be easy to remove. I’m going to cut off the end with the fletching and we should be able to pull it out from the other side. It is going to hurt a lot, though, and it’ll start bleeding quite a bit.”

“Just don’t let me bleed out and we’re good,” Geoff said.

Jack chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I’ll get you patched back up before you know it.”

Gripping the shaft of the arrow tightly, Conner started cutting through it, and even with his attempts to keep it stabilized, it moved and tugged at Geoff’s muscles and he winced. He grabbed at the seat of the chair tightly, and a minute later, the end of the arrow fell to the ground.

“You ready?” Conner asked, putting one hand on Geoff’s shoulder and wrapping the wet towel around his other hand before gripping the arrowhead.

“No,” Geoff admitted. Not even a second later, Conner tugged at the arrow, pulling it through the hole it had created, and fire raced through Geoff’s arm again. An involuntary whimper escaped his throat, and then the pain dropped slightly to a dull roar as blood started flowing down his arm from the open wound. Conner dropped the arrow and quickly pressed the towel to the injury, cleaning it up as best he could and moving out of the way to let Jack get close.

Jack nudged one of Conner’s hands away, putting his own near the bleeding injury, and he grabbed at a necklace that Geoff hadn’t noticed under his beard. There was a comforting warmth and a low glow from the necklace, and as Jack whispered quietly under his breath, the pain faded. By the time Jack took his hand away, Geoff’s arm still ached, but the fire was gone. The bleeding had stopped completely, the injury closed up under Jack’s magic, and Geoff sank into the chair in relief.

It had been a while since he’d been treated by a good cleric, and he had to admit, he’d missed the feeling. Despite the uncomfortable throb in his arm from parts of the injury that weren’t quite healed to their full extent yet, the spot was warm and Geoff felt more relaxed. It was pretty nice.

“Hey, thanks,” he said, gently stretching and flexing his arm. There were still twinges of discomfort, but it was more like he’d pulled a muscle than been impaled. It would heal up quickly on its own.

“Of course. Just be careful that you don’t do anything to make it worse,” Jack warned as Geoff fixed his chainmail and started to gather the other pieces of his armor, strapping them on with quick, practiced motions. Conner set to cleaning up, gathering the used materials and discarded arrow pieces.

“Thank you for your help, too. I know I’m not the only one who’s happy to know those goblins are gone,” Conner said, standing up with everything and carrying it all over to the table. “Do you have anywhere to stay while you’re here? Maybe I -”

A shout from outside interrupted him and all three looked around to the door as the one yell spread and turned into dozens of terrified screams. Geoff spun in his chair to look out the window, fingers flying over the straps of his armor, and Jack stepped up next to him to see as well.

Night was falling, and the village was lit by torches and lanterns set on posts and at the front of the buildings. People hurried out from the street, running from the entrance to the village and ducking into whatever buildings they could get to that were still open. Behind them came a group of small creatures that loped through the dirt street, more goblins that chased after the fleeing villagers and snagged at clothing and skin with their claws.

Something didn’t seem right about the goblins, but Geoff couldn’t quite put his finger on it. There was something odd about their appearance, about the markings across their skin, even the way they moved wasn’t quite natural for the creatures. And even feral goblins preferred using tools and crude weapons in place of claws and teeth, yet none of them carried anything with them.

Geoff grabbed his shield, pulling it onto his arm, and Jack put a hand out in front of him. “What are you doing? You’re hurt,” he demanded, and Geoff shrugged, brushing Jack’s hand aside.

“And all of them are going to be, too. I’m going to help,” Geoff declared. He took a breath, loosened his sword in its scabbard, and then hurried out into the night.

Behind him, he heard Jack swear and say, “That’s not being careful.” But then Geoff was gone, hurrying forward to confront yet another group of stupid, annoying, pain in the ass goblins.

The streets were already practically empty by the time Geoff made it out, and the goblins were seeking ways to get into buildings and past locked doors. A nearby goblin was digging its claws into the opening between the door and its frame, tearing small chunks of wood free in a frenzy, and Geoff went after it first.

He pulled his sword free and brought it down on the goblin’s back, cutting a gash from one shoulder to the opposite hip, and the goblin spun around with an animalistic snarl. Up close, it was even more apparent that something wasn’t right with these creatures. Long, thick scars criss-crossed the goblin’s body, black and rotten. Its eyes were sunken into his head and the usual yellow color in them had turned a sickly pale. The goblin’s veins had darkened much like the cord-like scars, and it moved in a slightly disjointed, broken manner.

Geoff would be lying if he said it didn’t scare him shitless. Not that anyone needed to know he was lying.

The goblin swiped at Geoff, but as soon as Geoff met the creature’s horrible gaze, he was already backpedaling out of its reach. It hissed and snarled, charging forward, and Geoff yelped as he swung his sword at it. The blade moved cleanly through one of the black scars, and it crumbled to dust against the sword. It seemed to be all that was holding the goblin together. As the scar crumbled away, it revealed a gaping wound that parted easily, and the goblin dropped to the ground. The other thick scars turned to dust and the goblin tried to reach out and then fell still, dead to injuries that never bled.

Geoff stared at it in shock and horror and then gently poked it with his sword. He had traveled a lot and been in a lot of fights in his time, but he had never seen anything like this before. It was disgusting and horrifying, and he was faintly regretting leaving Conner’s house to handle it.

Before he’d quite recovered, small, sharp teeth buried themselves in his leg and Geoff shouted in surprise, kicking outward on reflex. His foot collided with something solid and he turned to see another mangled goblin fall backwards, Geoff’s blood staining its teeth and jaws. The other goblins were approaching him, giving up on the houses for an easier target.

Geoff stepped away from the goblins, adjusting his grip on his sword and preparing for an attack, but before he could move again, a dwarf appeared in his way. Jack’s holy symbol was in his hand again and in the darkness of the night, the faint glow coming from it was easier to see. Jack spoke quietly to himself and then held the holy symbol out toward the goblins.

“Leave!” he commanded, and the goblins took one look at him and then scurried away into the darkness. Geoff watched them go, a little stunned that that had even worked, his sword dropping to rest on the ground. As soon as the goblins were gone again, Jack let out a breath and turned around, looking up at Geoff.

“If that’s what you call careful, no wonder you were so beat up,” he said and Geoff looked from him to the dead goblin nearby.

“What the hell was that?” he blurted. “You saw those things, right? That’s not… What are… Please tell me you saw that.”

Jack looked around the village for a moment before gesturing to Conner’s house. “I don’t know. Why don’t you get cleaned up again. Rest. I’m going to make sure everyone here is okay, and then we can try to figure this out together.”

Geoff slowly put his sword away, shifting a couple steps further from the dead goblin and he nodded. “Alright. Why not. And hey, maybe this is just a very bad dream from fighting too many of these dumb things.”

There was a pause of surprise before Jack started laughing to himself. “That would make things a lot easier.” He put a hand to Geoff’s arm and pushed gently. “Go, you’re bleeding again. And stop running around and getting hurt.”

Jack turned to the dead goblin, dragging it away from the building it had been attacking, and Geoff watched him for a second before sighing and going back to the doctor’s house. Jack seemed to have it covered, and Geoff honestly didn’t want to be around those creatures any more himself.

If only it were just a nightmare. It would make things a lot easier.


End file.
